


How Negan Shared Christmas

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Post-Apocalyptic Holidays with Rick and Negan [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Rick Grimes, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Implied Sexual Content, Infatuated Besotted Negan, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pansexual Negan (Walking Dead), Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 21:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13578921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: Negan dresses up as Santa and plants Christmas presents under the Grimes’ family Christmas tree, but he is caught by Rick and Carl. Hilarity ensues.





	How Negan Shared Christmas

Negan swung Lucille up on his shoulder, posing in the mirror. The Santa hat had been a damn lucky find. It was still a vibrant red; and the puff ball on the end and the faux fur lining were crisp white as well. Call it a Christmas miracle. He pushed the hat around on his head, trying to find the most alluring angle for the tip to flop. Huh. Not normally something he’d be too concerned about. After all, he wasn’t all that familiar with floppy tips.

After five minutes of this, Negan caught Frankie’s eye in the mirror as she lounged on the couch behind him, reading an outdated magazine and sipping her wine. He wasn’t exactly sure why he kept them around anymore. Well, he did kind of know. Frankie’s massages were kick-ass. But Rick… Rick was special. Turning away from the mirror, Negan strutted by the couch. “What do you fucking think, Frankie? With my leather jacket and this hat, I look just like Saint Nick if he were sexy as fuck, huh?”

Barely glancing up from her magazine, Frankie licked her thumb to turn the page. “It’s cute, Negan,” she said dismissively.

His shoulders slumped and Lucille fell limp at his side. “Fucking cute?” He hadn’t been going for cute. Would Rick think it’s cute, though? Thoughtful, Negan hummed. “Thanks, Frankie.” Hitching Lucille back on his shoulder again, Negan started whistling to himself as he headed down to the trucks. It was time to see his Ricky boy again.

At the trucks, Simon was waiting for him, as well as a few of his other most trusted Saviors. “Alexandria, boss?” Simon asked as he hopped in the driver’s seat.

“Fuck yeah, Simon,” Negan answered as he climbed into the passenger seat, waving his hand to the others so that they could get in their trucks.

Simon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, looking him over, lingering on the Santa hat. “Nice hat, Negan.”

This time Negan smiled. He hoped Rick would think it was a nice hat, too. “Thanks a fucking bunch, Simon.” Tapping the dash twice, Negan nodded toward the gate. “Let’s head the fuck out.”

And Negan started switching back and forth between his humming, whistling, and singing again.

“Oh, it’s beginning to look a lot like Rick-mas!”

On his way to Alexandria, Negan had to resist the urge to roll the window down and throw his head out in the cool air like some eager dog. He and Rick as well as the other communities have come to an understanding of sorts. It was some trade system, but the Sanctuary had little to offer by means of trade, mostly because they could only grow enough crops for themselves. So, the Saviors redirected the herds. His men liked it well enough. Got out their pent-up aggression, and it was easy to do now that they didn’t have to balance several communities.

This particular visit to Alexandria was purely for pleasure. Rick didn’t even know they were coming. But that was one of the perks for the Saviors with redirecting herds and clearing out the dead; they could crash at the other communities or outposts whenever, and they got to scavenge a lot of cool shit to trade.

Their last trip was to a mall, and Negan found a plethora of riches. Christmas came embarrassingly early for Negan – but then again what doesn’t?

He raided the Victoria’s Secret for his wives, picking through the perfumes so he wouldn’t get anything that would make him sneeze. Laura and Arat joined him, and Negan even caught Simon snatching a pair of lace panties for someone. Then there were the normal department stores where they grabbed the basic shit: clothes, towels, sheets. Those things were always in demand. After that, they searched through the other stores at their leisure, and Negan was inevitably drawn to a children’s store.

Looking around, all Negan could see was baby shit. Diapers. Pink hair bows. Rocking horses. Tickle-Me Elmos. Legos. Books upon books like The Little Engine that Could and Brown Bear, Brown Bear and The Hungry Caterpillar.

“Simon?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Do you know any babies?”

“Yeah, Maggie has a little boy. And then you know Mike has Gracie. And then there’s–”

“– Judith,” Negan finished. “Rick’s little angel.”

Simon hummed the affirmative. “There’s three pregnant women at the Kingdom, too.”

“And how would you know that?”

His right-hand man stuttered and blushed, but Negan was already thinking about the look on Rick’s face when Negan presents little Judith with a dolly. The last time he visited her, Judith was stacking plastic solo cups and wooden blocks with faded (probably lead) paint. She deserved better.

Cutting his eyes toward Simon, Negan interrupted, “You know, children are the future. We need more of them. People die every day, but there aren’t babies being born every fucking day anymore.” With a grin, Negan said smugly, “We should change that.” Turning back towards the store, Negan tromped inside. “Come on, Simon. We need this shit.”

It wasn’t until they had practically cleared out the whole store that Simon brought up an interesting point. “The days are getting colder.”

“Thank you, Captain-fucking-Obvious,” Negan huffed and puffed, dragging his leather sleeve over his sweaty forehead. Truth be told, Negan was dying for the cold. He had practically sweated his ass off as it is.

Good-natured, Simon didn’t take offense. “What I mean is, is that if we want to bring back some semblance of normalcy – build on civilization like you said – maybe we should bring back some old-world traditions.”

“Well, clearly you already have a fucking idea. Spit that shit out, Simon. You got my damn attention.”

“What about Christmas?”

And Negan froze in place before he dissolved into laughter. It was perfect. “Damn, Simon. That sounds fucking great!” Already the wheels in Negan’s head started turning as he thought of gifts who could give to Rick and his family.

Rick, Rick, Rick.

He and Rick had become friends. Well, to Negan they were friends. Rick still gave him that glacier stare with those beautiful blue eyes. It made Negan just itch to find someone to melt them down and see some heat that wasn’t in the form of the Negan-Stop-Laser-Beams Rick would shoot at him on occasion.

It didn’t mean anything to Rick, but their tentative friendship meant the world to Negan. He liked Rick. A lot.

And he liked Rick’s family. Not just the blonde-haired angel and Carl who was a regular bad ass and said the funniest shit. But then there was the rest of Rick’s family. They could hold their own, and Negan appreciated capability where he saw it. There were too few bad asses in the world anymore, and what few there were, Rick had amassed into his loyal family. Like the samurai Michonne, the Latina Rosita, the bowman Daryl, and even Aaron. He didn’t have a nickname for Aaron yet. He’d get around to it. And there were people like Carol who somewhat scared Negan, and Tara who was an absolute riot that loved to fuck with him. She was gay, though, which was a shame because she was cute (though not as cute as Rick). And then Gabey with his creepy smile. Negan was trying to work with him on that. And smarty-pants Eugene who gave them a radio and bullets. Negan liked that.

But Negan would’ve never given a single shit about any of these people if it weren’t for Rick. Hell, there were still a few people in Rick’s family that Negan would never be able to get along with. Maggie for knocking Glenn out. And then Morgan, because that guy was fucking nuts. But Negan still tried to be nice for Rick’s sake. Negan found himself doing a lot of things for Rick.

So, he got an idea.

If he wanted to get on Rick’s good side, that meant being good to his family. And what better excuse to be nice to Rick’s family than a surprise Christmas?

“Simon?”

“Yeah, boss?”

Negan looked at Simon. “I’m gonna do the fucking reverse of How the Grinch Stole Christmas.”

In response, Simon tilted his head. “How are you gonna do that?”

And Negan smiled.

The plan started off fairly simple. Negan made a list of who was going to get a present from him. And then he went and talked to Rick about them so he knew what to get. If that gave him more time with Rick, then that was just fine with Negan, too.

“Rick?” Negan asked one day while the Saviors were dropping off metal and other material to help fortify Alexandria’s walls.

“Yeah, Negan?” Rick asked, somewhat irritated. Negan had been dogging his steps all day, which meant Rick had not been able to get any work done all day. He’d given up and returned home to watch Judith, and they were sitting on the porch as they watched her toddle around.

“What’s Michonne like?”

Rick snorted. “You know what Michonne is like. Dedicated. Stoic. Smart.”

“That’s not what I fucking meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“What does that bad-ass samurai like?” At that, Rick finally looked at Negan, not bothering to mask his confusion. “Don’t tell me she likes manga or those… those hentai things. That’s just really fucking weird, something I’d expect from Smarty-Pants.” Negan remembered confiscating that kind of material in gym class. It was weird as fuck.

“I don’t know what hentai is.”

Playfully, Negan stuck his tongue between his teeth at Rick, eyes glittering. “I’d love to fucking introduce you to it sometime, Rick.”

“Why do you want to know about Michonne?” Rick asked, ignoring Negan’s offer.

“Well, shit. Can’t I just be a nice fucking guy and get something for her?”

“She’s not going to sleep with you,” Rick stated plainly, turning his attention back to Judith as if that were the end to their conversation.

“Shit, Rick. You think I think only with my dick?” Rick shot him a look and Negan looked properly chastised. “You wound me.”

“If I tell you what Michonne likes, do you promise to stop swearing in front of Judith?”

“Cross my heart, hope to fucking die.”

Neutrally, Rick hummed, “She likes cats and a special kind of mint toothpaste. I can’t tell you the brand. And she likes heath bars. Those are her favorite candy bars.”

“Cats?” Negan latched onto that. “Would she like a fucking cat?”

“More like cat art.”

“Cat art? That’s even more un-fucking-helpful.”

“You asked. I answered. Now stop that. If Judith says half the things you say, I’ll shoot you.”

“Geez, Rick, why don’t you just marry me?”

“Shut up, Negan.”

The next time was when Negan was stopping by to pick up some food for the Sanctuary. It was reminiscent of how they were before, except it wasn’t even remotely the same now. While the Saviors loaded the trucks, Negan cornered Rick in the pantry again. This time, though, Rick was counting cans, Alexandria’s pantry well stocked. He kept his back to Negan the entire time.

“Hey, Rick?”

“What is it, Negan? We gave you plenty of food. Even all the Pork ‘n’ Beans you could possibly eat.”

“And I fucking thank you for that, Rick, but that’s not what I wanted to ask.”

“Then what is it, Negan?” Rick repeated, “I’m busy.”

Scuffing his boot on the floor, Negan asked, “I wanted to ask about Carl. I haven’t seen him in a long fucking time. Him or his little girlfriend, uh, Edith.”

“Enid,” Rick corrected him. “They stay at the Hilltop now. Carl’s apprenticing under the blacksmith and Enid stays there to help Maggie with her baby Hershel.”

“Carl the blacksmith, huh? Regular fucking bad ass growing up so damn fast. You got empty nest syndrome, Rick?”

“No, I have Judith, and Carl visits often.” Rick barely glances over his shoulder at Negan before continuing on counting as if it were nothing. “Besides, you’re over at my place so much, bugging the piss outta me that I have no time to be lonely.”

“Aw, Rick, you love me.”

“No, I don’t Negan.”

Negan hummed, and moved past it. “Does Carl still find time to be a fucking kid?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Does he still read those comics?”

“When he can, but it’s hard to find comics on runs. Enid likes comics, too.”

“She does? Well, shit. That makes this fucking loads easier on me.”

“What are you talking about, Negan?”

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head about Rick. Say, shortie, you need help reaching the top shelf?”

The next time Rick was knee deep in the garden, tending to tomatoes. And when Negan showed up, Rick put him to work helping him, and Negan wanted to laugh, but instead he did as he was told, using the opportunity to chatter Rick’s ear off. “Rickie boy?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, Rick the Prick.”

“Negan,” Rick warned.

“Rick,” Negan amended, “Rick, Rick, Rick, Rick, Rick, Rick, Rick. That better?”

“What, Negan?” Rick snapped, his hands gentle when he took the rusted pruning shears from Negan’s hand, in contrast to his waspish tone when he answered Negan.

“I was just fucking wondering…”

“Yes?”

“Are Rosita and Tara, y’know?”

“No, I don’t know. Enlighten me.”

Negan clicked his tongue meaningfully, and Rick looked at him with a furrowed brow. Negan wiggled his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders, but Rick just kept looking at him. Finally, Negan held up his fingers in a peace sign in front of his mouth and stuck his tongue out.

Immediately, Rick’s eyes widened and he ducked his head, blushing in the heat. “I’m… not sure. Tara likes girls, but I’m not sure about Rosita.” Tossing Negan a dark look, Rick muttered, “Why do you ask? You trying to impress Rosita now instead of Michonne? Cause she’s not gonna like you much either.”

“No, that’s not it at all, Rick. I know Tara like goofy shit. Bobbleheads and other knick-knacky crap. But I don’t know about Rosita.”

“Rosita likes guns,” Rick said easily, “and she liked make-up when she has the chance to find it, which isn’t often. She used to have a pair of hoop earrings, but those became a liability so she stopped wearing them.”

Thoughtful, Negan nodded. “Thank you, Rick.”

Rick look genuinely surprised at Negan’s manners. “You’re welcome, Negan. Now, if you can spread some of that manure out over there…”

“Hey, Rick?” Negan began as he swung by Rick’s house for some lemonade. “Do Carol and Morgan not live in Alexandria anymore? I see them at the Kingdom a fucking lot.”

“Yeah, they live there,” Rick answered readily enough, pouring Negan a glass of lemonade as he kept one ear out for Judith’s baby monitor. “I think Carol is seeing Ezekiel, so you’re not gonna find much luck with her either.”

“Damn, Rick, you must think I’m on the look-out for a new fucking wife or something. Or that I would not be able to fucking seduce any of your fine lady friends.”

Rick didn’t say anything, just took a sip of his lemonade, staring evenly at Negan over the rim of his glass.

Negan took it as a signal to continue. “Huh. Well. What’s Carol like? She doesn’t strike me as the type to plant fucking flowers or bake fucking cookies.”

“She really isn’t.”

“That doesn’t exactly help me, Rick.”

But Rick only shrugged. “She smokes. That answer any questions you might have?”

Dismissively, Negan waved his hand. “What about Morgan, then?”

“I knew Morgan since the beginning. He’s a lot like me… or what I would be if I had lost C-Carl,” Rick said quietly.

Tilting his head at Rick, Negan didn’t know what to say. Without Carl or Judith, Rick would be like that madman? Negan didn’t think so. No. Rick would be dead.

“Say, Rick, how about you and me play a game of pool together? It’s a beautiful day.”

“I’m not sure, Negan. It’ll be dark soon.”

“I can stay the night, can’t I? There’s a spare house. Come on, Rick. Have some fun with me. Or are you afraid you’ll lose?”

“Fine, Negan. One game and then you go.”

“Whatever you say, Rick,” Negan said, throwing an arm across Rick’s shoulders, the hard, tense line that was once there gone as soon as Negan touched him.

With hooded eyes, Negan watched from a distance as Rick talked to Aaron and Daryl. Unlike how he was with Negan, Rick was a lot more touchy-feely. He actually laughed at Aaron’s jokes, his bright blue eyes lighting up so beautifully, a smile cracking through his grey beard. He looked breath-taking. And then Negan caught Daryl looking back at Negan funny, and Negan quickly had to look away, swinging Lucille restlessly to hide his embarrassment.

Eventually, Rick came to speak with him, the laugh-lines around his eyes already fading away as he swaggered toward him on bow legs, his one hand hovering near his colt python. “Negan.”

“Hey, Rick. You miss me? I fucking missed you.”

“Uh-huh,” Rick grunted, “I believe you. What have you got for me?”

“We knocked over a Bed-Bath-Beyond. You like soap, Rick? I bet you use a cucumber-melon kind of shampoo for those fucking little curly locks.”

“Stop it, Negan,” Rick said without any malice, brushing by him to examine the boxes the Saviors were unloading in the street.

Shadowing after Rick, Negan tried not to stand so close, but it was hard. “Hey, uh, is your friend Aaron like you’re um…fuck…”

Rick turned to full attention to Negan and Negan uncharacteristically fell silent. Rick’s gaze was even, unfailingly patient, and again, Negan was breathless with how beautiful Rick was. “Shit, uh…”

“Lost your train of thought? That never happens to you.” Rick turned away, and Negan could suddenly breath again though he didn’t dare to hope. “I thought your big mouth could run without your brain having to be attached.”

“Don’t be fucking mean to me, Rick,” Negan said thoughtlessly. “I was just wondering if Aaron was your fucking boyfriend or something.”

“Don’t be jealous, Negan,” Rick mirrored Negan’s statement. “It’s not a good look on you.”

“Sooo, you admit I fucking look good?”

“Negan.”

“Alright, alright, Rick. But am I right? I’m pretty sure I’m right about Aaron being strictly fucking dickly.”

Rick looked back up at Negan, wrinkling his nose in distaste at Negan’s interesting choice of words. “Aaron used to have a boyfriend. His name was Eric. He died in the war.”

“Damn.” Negan stared deep into Rick’s blue eyes. During the war, Negan wanted to kill Rick, but now, he didn’t want to think about what would happen if Rick were gone. “Damn,” Negan repeated.

“Yeah, it’s a shame. Eric was a good man.” Rick moved along, halfway inspecting the other boxes, but not really. “It was he and Aaron who found me and mine. They brought us to Alexandria. They really loved each other.” Half-chuckling to himself, Rick added, “They collected road memorabilia together. License plates from all fifty states. I guess every couple has something special.”

“Hmm,” Negan mumbled. He knew that was true. When he was married to Lucille, their thing was movie dates, their magical compromise when Lucille wasn’t in the mood to go to a sports game for the school or Negan didn’t have the patience to sit through another play or musical. “What about your wife? Carl’s mom?”

Rick’s look shifted to one of introspective pensiveness, his brow furrowing. “Before Carl was born, we’d go the bar, but after Carl we went camping a lot. Trips to lake, the beach if we could afford it. Once we even went to New Orleans and stayed at a hotel that had a casino. We sat at the slot machine with the other old biddies and made $70 that we immediately lost at the roulette table. It was a good trip.” Wistfully, Rick sighed and looked out and away from Alexandria, squinting towards the sun, “We wanted to go to the Grand Canyon one day when Carl was older.”

Negan stared at Rick, unsure if he should make a silly comment or leave him alone. He settled for a hand on Rick’s shoulder, steering him around back to his house. “Come on, Rick. Let’s go see little Judy.” On their own accord, Negan’s fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Rick’s neck. “She got her curls from you, you know.”

Rick snorted in disbelief. “No, she didn’t, but it’s nice of you to think so.”

“I’m a fucking nice guy, Rick. About time you took notice.”

“Sure, Negan,” Rick said, allowing himself to be manhandled and guided by Negan, for once not shrugging off his arm. Negan knew it was because it was cold today and Rick wasn’t one to reject warmth.

“Say, Rick, I’m not sure your ol’ pal Daryl likes me very fucking much.”

“What would make you think of a silly thing like that?”

“Oh, just his fucking glaring and grunting.”

“Are you planning on seducing Daryl next?” Rick actually joked, “Because if not, you shouldn’t worry about him.”

“Nah, Rick, Daryl isn’t my fucking type of man.”

“Okay, Negan, whatever you say.”

Over that time, Negan felt confident that he and Rick were closer. And he was also sure that whatever he felt for Rick went beyond lust – but it was unreciprocated. Still, that didn’t stop Negan from collecting the presents and enacting this half-ass plan. Here he was, approaching Alexandria by moonlight. This could end badly, but Negan had faith that after all this time, they wouldn’t be overly suspicious or cautious. Besides, there were a few spare houses in Alexandria. The Saviors deserved to spend a Christmas in a home rather than a factory; at least, the Saviors who had no family to spend it with at the Sanctuary.

At the gate, Eugene met them, and Negan clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Smarty-Pants. I’ll have Laura install that TV and game system for ya.”

“I also believe that our clandestine operation exchange deal required an additional payment of sustenance of whatever was my choice and I settled for pickles rather than lobster.”

“Yeah, Laura has those, too, I didn’t fucking forget.” Negan slung a duffle bag across his back. Feeling generous, he reached in the side pocket and grabbed a fucked-up looking sock-monkey. “For your fucking troubles, Smarty-Pants,” Negan said as he shoved it into Eugene’s hands.

Then Negan was on his merry way to Rick’s house, guided solely by the muscle memory of visiting so many times over the last long year.

He entered (breaking and entering? The door was unlocked), and shuffled into the living room as quietly as he could. The Grimes Family had set up a tree decorated with ornaments, a few of them homemade by little Judy herself. Negan remembered convincing Rick to go out and get the tree. At first Rick had been skeptical, but then Negan sweet talked him, saying things like, “Don’t you want Judith to have some fucking happy, normal memories?” and “Eventually, you can just burn the damn tree to keep warm, Rick. That’s fucking practical, right?”

It still surprised Negan that Rick actually listened to him.

Gently lowering the duffle bag to the floor, Negan eyed up the tree with perverse excitement. He and Lucille never had children, so when they exchanged Christmas presents, it was normally without any surprises. But doing this now, without Rick ever knowing it was Negan or his Saviors… there was something about that that Negan really liked.

On his knees, he pulled out the presents one by one, arranging them under the tree. Some of them were wrapped with what little wrapping paper he could find, which wasn’t much. The world hadn’t ended around Christmas time, thank Christ. Most of the presents weren’t unwrapped, though Negan had taken great pains to make sure it was clearly addressed to the receiver.

There was a weird cat statue for Michonne that Negan tied a ribbon around the neck and scrawled on the ribbon with black sharpie her name. He could only hope he spelled it right.

There were stacks upon stacks of comic books for Carl and his girlfriend to share. Negan had Simon to thank for that because Simon found the comic store on one of his runs.

Rosita had one of the few presents that came in a bag, and it was basically stuffed full of half-expired make-up and leftover jewelry from an Ulta and a Kay Jewelers. And a pretty nice handgun, too. Arat even picked it out.

He found a bobblehead for Tara. Negan didn’t know what the fuck the bobblehead was, but it was still in the fucking package and everything.

For Gabriel, Negan found some kind of inspiration home decoration that had a Bible quote on it because what the fuck else was he supposed to get a priest? Hell, he was half tempted to stuff a titty magazine in a Bible, but he was trying to be friendly with Gabey and Gabey was pretty damn close to Rick.

Daryl got extra arrows – Dwight called them bolts, but what the fuck ever.

Carol got a pack of cigarettes – a fucking luxury.

Morgan got some Buddhist books or something. Negan didn’t pay much attention. One of the books was War and Peace maybe?

Aaron got a collection of bumper stickers and car magnets from the Auto-Zone they raided.

And as for Maggie, Negan settled on bringing a shit-ton of baby supplies. And that was Judith’s gift, too. Books to learn how to read and spell, and dolls with curly blonde hair (with the batteries removed because toys that make noise are not only a hazard but fucking annoying). Cute little dresses. Anything a toddler could ask for or need or want to play with. Negan spared no expense.

But Rick. Fuck. Negan had spent a long fucking time wondering what to get him. He had crawled over every strip mall he could find, searching for what to get that could show Rick how much he meant to him. There’d been many things that jumped out to Negan. Lube. Crotchless, silk panties. A collar that was probably meant for a kitten that read, ‘Princess.’ But Negan knew those were all selfish gifts that would make Rick stutter and blush, but ultimately throw Negan out on his ear. Eventually, eventually, Negan managed to find something that was hopefully worthwhile. Maybe the gifts given to Rick’s family and especially little Judith would be enough for Rick.

Just as Negan set out Rick’s present wrapped in dark sapphire blue, fuzzy velvet ring box – but it wasn’t a ring – a voice spoke up behind him. “What the hell are you doing in our house, Negan?”

Negan startled, immediately reaching for Lucille, only to remember that he left her in the truck because he grabbed the duffle bag instead. Slowly, he turned around and thankfully it was Carl, just Carl. He wasn’t aiming a gun at him, and he was alone. There was his signature cowboy hat and eyepatch, but he was in his pajamas; Star Wars. They were pretty nice.

“Hey, kid.”

Carl stared at him wearily, and then looked behind Negan at all the stuff crammed under the tree. “Negan, what is this?”

“Uh, you wouldn’t fucking happen to still believe in fucking Santa Claus would you, squirt?”

“No.” Carl squinted at him, mouth screwed up tight. “I hadn’t believed in Santa since I was seven and wondered why Santa Claus went to K-Mart to get my presents.”

“Shit, Carl, you really are a fucking serial-killer. No damn fun at all.”

“I’m not giving you cookies and we don’t even have powdered milk.”

“I fucking know that.”

“Then why do this?”

“Fuck, you Grimes. Always suspicious of me even though I’ve given you plenty of fucking reasons not to be.” Shifting around to get more comfortable on his knees, Negan tossed his head and the little fuzzy ball, too. “Can’t I just do something fucking sweet for once?”

Perceptive, Carl narrowed his eye at Negan, his mouth flat lining. He didn’t even seem remotely curious in the presents anymore. “Oh, so that’s why you’re here.”

“You fucking get it now?”

“I get that you keep trying to suck up to my dad.”

Negan sat back on his heels. Well. Yes? Should he tell Carl he’d rather suck on something else of his daddy’s? “That really what you fucking think, Carl?”

“That’s what I know. That’s what everyone knows.”

“Shit.” Negan looked down at the carpet, his brow scrunched up as he thought hard about it. He looked back up at Carl again after only a minute of silence. “That what your Daddy think, too?”

He shrugged.

Negan’s shoulders slumped.

“I know you don’t have any fucking milk or cookies, but you still have that lemonade?”

Carl gestured for Negan to follow him into the kitchen.

Together, Negan and Carl split the rest of the lemonade in silence, sitting at the kitchen table across from one another. Carl stared at him. Negan studied the wood grain of the table. He wished he was drinking something stronger, but the lemonade would do.

By now he was just killing time. His Saviors had been tasked with stocking up the pantry so that the rest of the Alexandrians that weren’t Rick’s family could wake up on “Christmas” morning with some food for their present. Then they’d head out before anyone even knew they were there. But right now, even though Negan wanted to go, he couldn’t make himself do it. Instead he was being tortured by second thoughts. Why did this half to be so hard? Less than an hour ago he had the Christmas fucking spirit. Where the hell did it go?

Finally, it was Carl who broke the silence. “So, what did you get me?”

“What?”

Carl sighed. “Look, I know most of those presents are for Judith, but I better have something, too.”

Sitting back in the kitchen chair, Negan lightly admonished, “You don’t want to spoil the fucking surprise, do ya, Carl? It’s not even morning yet.”

Rolling his eye, Carl finished his glass of lemonade and then stood to wash out his glass at the sink.

“How’s blacksmithing treating you, Carl?”

“It’s fine.”

“Fuck yeah, I bet you’re getting muscles to impress that little girlfriend you got. You’re practically fucking moved out, young man. Bet you live with your girlfriend at the Hilltop. That’s real fucking cute.”

“What did you get my dad?” Carl changed the subject.

Wryly, Negan smirked. “I’ll fucking show you that one.”

Back in the living room, Carl stood nearby while Negan snatched Rick’s present up again. He cradled the box in his palm, not yet ready to turn around and look at Carl. Touching it curiously, Negan once again wondered if he was doing the right thing or the selfish thing…but can’t those two be the same thing every once in a while?

“Are you going to show me or not?”

“Yeah, I will, it’s just… shit. I don’t know. Your daddy has me all sentimental and shit.” Negan swept his thumb over the unusual texture. He picked over the jewelry store for what felt like forever, and he agonized over which box felt appropriate. There was a red one that he liked, but then there were wood grain boxes, too. In the end he settled on blue because he suspected it was Rick’s favorite color. He wore it a lot and it made his eyes pop. Maybe Rick would like the box at least.

“I just want to make your daddy happy, Carl. I want him to fucking like me.”

“Why?”

“He’s a man worth impressing. He impressed the hell outta me, that’s for sure.” Snorting, Negan added mostly under his breath, “Did much fucking more than just impress me, too.”

“Yeah?” said a voice that definitely was not Carl’s. “Like what?”

Instantly, Negan jerked around on his knees, and there was Rick fucking Grimes in only a pair of grey sweat pants, his signature gun in one hand and the hatchet in the other. Carl was behind him, but Negan could only focus on Rick, taking in the pair of sleepy blue eyes and the mussed-up curls and the slight smirk on his face. Fucking Sleeping Beauty. And Negan had to go and wake him up.

“I heard voices. Went to check on Judith and Carl, but Carl wasn’t in his bed. And I come downstairs to…this? Whatever this is, Negan.”

“Thisisn’twhatitfuckinglookslikeRick–” Negan babbled, but Rick only cocked his head at him like a curious puppy.

“Looks like you’re gonna propose to me, Negan.” Rick jerked his chin at the ring box clutched in Negan’s fist.

Negan loosened his grip and offered it up to Rick, still on his knees – but both knees, much like how Rick had been when they first met. That irony wasn’t lost on Negan. “It’s not fucking that, Rick,” Negan said, his voice soft, not trained to be that way but just that way for Rick. “Open it up.”

Tucking his gun down the back of his pants, Rick reached out and plucked the box up gingerly. He held it close to his face before he flicked the lid open with one-hand, using his thumb. And rather than a diamond ring like he expected there were… “Watch batteries?”

“You were that fucking silver watch every damn day I see you, Rick. I know that time is fucking important to keep, especially as a leader, and considering how if we fucking want to establish holidays again for civilizations sake and all–” Negan was babbling again.

“Shut the hell up, Negan.”

Uncharacteristically obedient, Negan fell silent, staring up at Rick with wide, emotional eyes. He wasn’t sure if he should let himself get his hopes up, if he should let the adoration shine through. His intention had never been to be some kind of brown-noser. He had only ever loved Rick. But he wasn’t sure if he was ready for Rick to know that.

Peering down his nose at Negan, Rick graced him with a look that was surprisingly tender, as soft as Negan felt. “Thank you, Negan.”

It wasn’t a declaration of love, but the words were honest and sincere and heartfelt all the same. And all the same, Negan melted into a puddle on the floor, feeling the butterflies in his stomach – except it was more like a boiling pot of spaghetti noodles frothing up and over flowing – and the skipped heart beat and the sweaty palms. “You’re welcome, Rick,” Negan sighed, and despite himself, he was sure that it sounded very much like, ‘I love you.’

“Merry Christmas.”

“And a happy New Year.”


End file.
